“Jay ignored Nick’s comment, instead laughing stupidly at one bear which was winking and holding a sign that said ‘Hey Honey’. Dear god, he was in love with an idiot.”
sokka, burrowed in 3 comforters: i am the human taco. the beginning and the end of comfort. i am the couch potato, the king of sleepy and the superhero of watching cartoons all day.
zuko:you’ve been wrapped like that for eight hours. you sure you’re okay?
Being flatmates with Malfoy was nothing like Harry expected. They were friends already, so the soft conversations over tea at three in the morning were no surprise, and neither was the grumbling over coffee not enough hours later. The quips, and Malfoy’s smell on every jumper he owned, the excessive eye-rolls and funny little squeals of excitement, all of that was familiar enough. Things he could handle. It was when he went to the kitchen one morning to find the cupboards chock-full of the biscuits he liked, that he raised an eyebrow. (“What? They were on sale” his arse.)
There was more. When he came back from Ron’s stag do to discover his bedsheets changed and his room tidied (“Merlin’s sake, I just had some free time” is apparently an explanation?). The following week, when Harry had been complaining, and suddenly the busiest black barber in town just happened to have a free appointment. (“I suppose you do get lucky after all” – yeah, not really.)
It didn’t end there. Harry’s bed was always made (“It’s called magic, look it up”) and his shirts were always ironed (“Can’t have you looking like that in front of Mother”) and his glasses always cleaned (“Just say ta and shut up, Potter”). Harry had no idea what it all meant. If it was some sort of delayed guilt reaction, or Malfoy’s way of self-fulfillment, or worse, self-punishment. Or if it was nothing at all, meant nothing. The most devastating part was how deeply ingrained Malfoy had already made himself in Harry’s life—how much he already needed him, wanted him, cared for him. Was driven absolutely mental by him—
It took a random encounter and two hours online before Harry understood the term ‘love language’. By that evening he’d cleaned up the flat, washed and hung all of Malfoy’s clothes, and restocked the fridge full of his fancy oat drink.
Then messed up the perfectly-starched bedsheets in Malfoy’s room by lying in them, bare to his boxers with his heart rampant in his throat—but when Malfoy got back from work, he didn’t seem to care. He kissed him just as fervently as he’d washed the dishes the day before: deeply, full of intent.
Being flatmates with Malfoy wasn’t quite what Harry expected; this went so wildly beyond what he could ever have hoped for. Love language, then. He couldn’t wait to become fluent.
Modern AU “and they were roommates” geraskier getting together, with appearances by Ciri & Valdo. Geralt is probably grey ace or demi here. This started as something small and silly and non-shippy and quickly grew into something else entirely. 7,000 words.
–
Jaskier was in constant motion, darting and dancing around the kitchen, opening cupboards, belting out Need You Tonight by INXS. His oversized Lil Nas X t-shirt was covered in flour and he had a smear of batter on his cheek.
“I’m home!” Ciri called as she came through the front door.
“Ah! The help has arrived!” Jaskier answered enthusiastically.
Ciri wrinkled her nose as she smelled vanilla in the air and realised that Jaskier’s voice had come from the kitchen.
“Are you trying to bake again?”
“I’m not trying, I ambaking.”
“Didn’t Dad ban you from the kitchen?” Ciri asked as she toed off her vans sneakers.
Jaskier spluttered.
“Why—I—this is my kitchen too, I’ll have you know! A man has to eat!”
“Yeah, but a man doesn’t have to bake. And you can’t bake.”
“I most certainly can, and besides, I’ll have help, so get in here.”
Ciri dropped her backpack by the table and entered the kitchen.
“Dad’s gonna kill you when he sees this,” she said, assessing the disaster zone that was the kitchen.
“We’ll have it cleaned up by the time he gets home.”
“I’m not the cleaner!”
“No, you’re the helper! So less arguing, more helping.”
“Jask, what happened to the spice rack?!”
“Uh, well, there was an… incident. Don’t worry about it, I’ll fix it later.”
“What possessed you with the need to bake and risk Dad’s temper, anyways?”
“He’s had a rough week, so I’m baking him a cake to cheer him up! That’s true friendship.”
“I don’t think true friendship is destroying the kitchen and making an inedible cake.”
“Oh! Rude! You should try to take after me more than your father. The man has terrible manners.”
Ciri snorted.
“Dad said specifically to” - here Ciri lowered her voice, in a rough but passable imitation of her father - “only listen to Uncle Jaskier about video games, music, or when he’s passing along a message.”
Jaskier spluttered again and jabbed a finger in the air.
“Well! I! I will have words with him later, but that just proves my point. Terriblyrude.”
“You’re right, he’s the worst. So maybe we should forget the cake and just start cleaning up the mess.”
“Absolutely not.”
Ciri sighed resignedly and came up alongside Jaskier, and he showed her the recipe and assigned her tasks. A minute later they heard the front door open.
“Ciri, you didn’t happen to invite a friend over…?”
“No?”
Jaskier furrowed his brow, wiped his hands on his shirt and walked out towards the front door.
“Ah,cock it. Geralt! What are you doing home?”
Geralt turned to him, raising his brows. “Am I not allowed to be?”
“You’re just…early, is all.” Jaskier twisted the hem of his shirt between his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he was more worried about Geralt seeing the mess, or for his surprise to be ruined.
“Vesemir insisted I go home early,” Geralt grunted out.
“Ah. That’s…kind of him.”
Geralt finally looked at Jaskier after hanging up his coat and taking off his shoes.
“Jaskier, what is all over your shirt? And why do I smell vanilla?”
“We-ell…”
“Iknow you’re not baking after the birthday cookie incident. I was scraping dough off the ceiling and walls for a week.”
“It wasn’tthatbad.”
“A week! And you were banned from baking.”
Jaskier bristled. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Geralt! I’m a grown man. I pay rent, too. Ciri is your child, but Iamnot.” He was jabbing his finger around for punctuation.
“Could have fooled me, most days,” Geralt grumbled. He started walking towards the kitchen, and Jaskier tried to stop him.
“Wait, Geralt, if you need something from the kitchen, let me get it for you.”
“Now I’m reallyworried.”
Geralt reached the doorway to the kitchen and stopped, stunned. “How did you even managethis?!”
“I had nothing to do with it!” Ciri piped up. “I just got home and he said I had to help. He’s making a cake.”
“Cirilla!” Jaskier hissed.
Geralt turned to Jaskier, bewildered. “You don’t even like cake, Jask.”
“No, but you do,” he mumbled.
“Ciri, do you have homework?”
She nodded at her dad.
“You can go ahead and get started on it, if you like.”
“Ok!” Ciri gave Jaskier’s arm a squeeze as she passed. “Good luck, Uncle Jask.”
Jaskier sighed. Once Ciri was gone, Geralt walked further into the kitchen and surveyed the damage more carefully.
“Is this the recipe?”
“Yeah. You weren’t supposed to be home until it was all done and cleaned up.”
“Looks like I should have been home earlier.”
Jaskier pouted, and Geralt smirked before glancing over the recipe, then the ingredients strewn across the counter.
“Jaskier, this is baking soda.”
“Yes?”
“It’s supposed to be baking powder.”
“Oh. Not the same thing, then?”
Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose.
“No, not the same thing. Did you put it in already?”
“No.”
“Ok. This might be salvageable.” Geralt pushed his sleeves up.
“But,” Jaskier whined, “I was trying to surprise you.”
Geralt huffed a laugh. “This was surprise enough. Come on, show me what you’ve done, we’ll try to finish this. I want the kitchen cleaned up before it’s time for pizza and movie night.”
Jaskier sighed again and told Geralt what he’d done so far, and they finished mixing ingredients, working together. Geralt magnanimously did not comment on the spice rack.
It was feeling like the birthday cookies all over again, not that Jaskier would admit it. He had wanted to make Geralt a treat for his birthday, and thought cookies were a great idea, as they could be packed in his lunch for the week. Unfortunately he’d had a mishap with the mixer, Geralt had walked into the disaster and summarily kicked him out of the kitchen. As a result, Jaskier had been banned from baking. Instead of making Geralt smile, he’d just given him another headache. Typical. No matter how hard Jaskier tried, he couldn’t seem to do things right. He sometimes wondered that Geralt let him stay as a roommate at all.
“So, care to tell me why you were baking, when you have neither the skills to bake, nor like eating cake?”
“You were having a shit week. I wanted to cheer you up,” Jaskier mumbled.
Geralt’s mouth twitched up in a half smile, and his eyes went soft.
“Maybe store-bought is a better call next time, though I appreciate the thought.”
The batter was poured into a cake pan, and Geralt put it into the oven, setting a timer.
“I’m sorry, Geralt. I wanted to do something nice for you, and I cocked it all up.”
“It was a very nice thought, Jask. Besides, this way it should probably be edible. I’ll let you ice it.”
“Oh, you’ll trust me with that, will you?” Jaskier asked sarcastically.
“Under Ciri’s supervision,” Geralt smirked.
“Fine. Look, the cake is in the oven now, why don’t you go shower, and I’ll clean up.”
Geralt glanced around the kitchen and accepted, to Jaskier’s immense relief. The least he could do at this point was clean up the mess he’d made, and he was fairly sure he could do that without causing any more damage. Geralt gave him instructions on how to check the cake with a toothpick to see if it was ready when the timer went off before heading upstairs.
Jaskier followed the instructions and proceeded to clean the kitchen while he waited for the cake to be ready, wiping up spilled ingredients, loading up the dishwasher with as many dishes as possible. He tried to put the spice rack back to rights, but eventually settled on just gathering all the parts and jars into the corner of the counter. That was a problem for tomorrow; one that might require a quick online order for a new spice rack.
When the timer went off, he checked it as per instructions before turning off the oven and setting the cake to cool. He then pulled up the recipe for the icing, and was in the midst of getting out the ingredients when Ciri walked back in.
“Dad said to come help you ice the cake when I was done my homework.”
“Perfect timing, princess! Grade seven has got nothing on you, hmm? Always said you were brilliant.”
“I didn’t have much,” Ciri mumbled, cheeks blushing and biting back a smile. Jaskier grinned.
“Alright! Let’s make some icing and decorate this cake!”
They gathered the rest of the ingredients and started mixing.
“So, are we just icing it plain white?” Ciri asked.
Jaskier frowned. “Where’s the fun in that? I think we still have food colouring from your birthday…” He started ransacking the cupboards.
“Do you have a design in mind?”
“Well… not exactly. I want to do a horse, but I do actually know my limits - somewhat - and that is not within my skill set.”
Ciri snorted. Jaskier found the bottles of food colouring, set them down on the counter then scowled at the cake.
“Are you mad at it, or hoping the cake will spontaneously give you a brilliant idea?” Ciri teased.
“I just… I wanted to surprise him,” Jaskier grumbled.
Ciri snickered. “I think he wassurprised.”
Jaskier swatted at her arm. “You know what I mean!”
Ciri laughed again, then set the spatula down and turned to Jaskier.
“Are you ever gonna tell him?”
Jaskier raised a brow. “What, that I wanted to surprise him?”
“That you love him.”
“What?!”
Ciri rolled her eyes fondly.
“You’reso obvious. Plus, I live here.”
“What does that mean?? That those who don’t live here alsoknow?”
Ciri let out a surprised laugh. “Of course!”
Jaskier wailed dramatically and dropped his head into his hands, bracing his elbows on the counter.
“Your mother?”
“Of course.”
“Your other uncles?”
“They have a betting pool.”
“Theywhat?!”
“On when you’ll get together.”
“Likethat’s going to happen,” Jaskier muttered. “Just bury me somewhere pretty, will you?”
“And you guys tease me for being a dramatic pre-teen! Seriously though, you should tell him.”
“Surprised no-one elsehas.”
“Dad’s smart, but not when it comes to things like this. He’ll never notice on his own.”
“Good!!”
“Why is that good?!”
“Because it would ruin everything!”
“I’m pretty sure he feels the same way. He just may not realise it, yet.”
Jaskier lifted his face to give her a disbelieving stare.
“I’m serious! He’s so… himself around you. He’s relaxed. Plus, he gets this sort of dopey look when he looks at you sometimes. He doesn’t look at anyone else like that.”
“I don’t know, Ciri. He’s relaxed around me because we’ve been friends for so long. And are you sure you aren’t misinterpreting his eyes? Sure they aren’t actually saying what did I ever do to be saddled with this nuisance?”
Ciri sighed. “I’m sure, Uncle Jask.”
“Hmmph.”
“So, how about I love you, with a big pink heart for the love?”
“Absolutely not!”
“Fine, a pride rainbow heart.”
“Cirilla!”
“What?” Ciri batted her lashes in a show of innocence.
“Maybe we should just ice it plain white,” Jaskier grumbled.
-
Geralt came down from his shower and was about to walk into the kitchen for a beer when he heard Jaskier declare, “Because it would ruin everything!”
Was there an issue with the cake? Before he could enter the kitchen and ask, he heard Ciri answer, “I’m pretty sure he feels the same way. He just may not realise it, yet.”
Who felt the same way about what?
“I’m serious!” he heard Ciri continue. “He’s so… himself around you. He’s relaxed. Plus, he gets this sort of dopey look when he looks at you sometimes. He doesn’t look at anyone else like that.”
Did someone have a crush on Jaskier? What did Ciri know that he didn’t? He tuned out the rest of their conversation as he mulled it over. Someone that was relaxed around Jaskier, he mused. Someone Ciri knew well, it seemed. His mind wandered to his brother Eskel. Jaskier and Eskel had known each other for just about as long as himself and Jaskier, and while Eskel was usually reserved around people outside their family, he had quickly warmed to Jaskier, and they were now nearly as close as Geralt and his brothers were. Something twinged in his gut at the thought, and he shook his head. If Eskel cared for Jaskier, and Jaskier felt the same way, that would be great. They both deserved to be happy, and if they made each other happy, that would be…wonderful. Why didn’t it feel wonderful? He rolled his shoulders and shook his head. It was just unexpected, that’s all. He pushed the thought aside. It had been a long week, he had a headache, he wanted a beer and to order dinner.
“Can I come into the kitchen?” Geralt asked from the hallway. “I want a beer.”
“Oh, uh, sure, one sec,” Jaskier answered, and Geralt heard quiet shuffling before, “Ok, come in.”
He entered the kitchen to find Ciri and Jaskier standing side-by-side in front of the counter, clearly hiding the cake behind their backs. He smiled at them and got himself a beer, then turned back to face them.
“I’ll go out to the living room and order the pizza. Same as usual?”
His roommate and his daughter both nodded at him, and he walked out and dropped heavily onto the couch, taking a sip of his beer. He opened the app and ordered their dinner, then switched on the TV to channel surf while he waited for the other two.
He found his mind wandering back to the conversation he had overheard. It had sounded like Jaskier liked this mystery person back. Why hadn’t he said anything to Geralt about it? Jaskier never stopped talking, and usually nothing was too personal for the gregarious musician to share.
Geralt felt a bit hurt that Jaskier had kept his apparent affection a secret. Did he not trust him to keep it a secret? Did he think it might be weird, if the object of his affection was actually his brother? Geralt had never spilled a secret, unlike his roommate, and of course it was fine if the man liked his brother. Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? Nothing wrong with liking your roommate’s brother. They’d probably be good for each other.
The twinge in his chest was only because Jaskier apparently didn’t trust him.
-
After they finished their pizza, Jaskier came out of the kitchen with the cake, setting it down on the coffee table in front of Geralt. It was iced white, with wonky rainbow letters spelling out “Happy Day” on top. Geralt snorted.
“Happy Day?”
Jaskier shrugged with a sheepish smile. “Cake decorating is not one of the arts in which I am talented.”
Geralt gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Jask. And you too, Ciri.”
Ciri brought out plates and forks, but Jaskier declined having any as Geralt served pieces. That didn’t stop him from sticking his finger into the icing on Geralt’s slice.
“Get your own!”
“I don’t like cake! I made it for you.”
“Next time just set aside a bowl of icing for yourself.”
“I would if I thought you’d actually let me without berating my ear off.”
Geralt snorted again and took a bite of cake. “Mmm. Not bad, I’m impressed.”
“Oh ye of little faith.”
When the movie was over, Ciri excused herself to get ready for bed, and Geralt and Jaskier sat on the couch nursing their beers. Geralt flipped on a nature documentary and they watched in silence for a while.
Jaskier looked at Geralt, who didn’t seem to be watching the show, instead staring off out the window with a furrowed brow.
“Work still bothering you?” Jaskier asked.
“Hmm? Oh, no. It’s nothing,” Geralt responded. He wasn’t about to tell Jaskier that he had eavesdropped outside the kitchen earlier, and couldn’t stop thinking about it. If Jaskier wanted to tell him about his crush, he would. Far be it from Geralt to stick his nose in it.
“You seem distracted.”
“Just tired.”
“Hmm.” Jaskier sounded unconvinced. “You know I’m always here if you want to talk,” he offered.
“Same to you,” Geralt responded, and Jaskier laughed, startled.
“I thought the problem was that I never stoppedtalking?”
“Never said that,” Geralt mumbled.
“Oh ho ho! You most certainly have, on more than one occasion.”
Geralt grunted. “Was only kidding.”
“I assure you, Geralt, if I have anything I need to get off my chest, you’ll be the first to hear it.”
Geralt grunted again in response. He wasn’t sure how else to respond to being lied to, as that clearly wasn’t the case, and Jaskier had deigned him not worthy of hearing about it. Not that Geralt really cared. So what. Let him moon over his brother in secret, then. It was fine.
-
Geralt was putting his boots on at the door the next morning, ready to go riding with Ciri, when Jaskier hurried out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and hair still dripping wet.
“Geralt! Can you grab a carton of coconut milk on your way home? We’re almost out, and I would go, but I have to get the demo for the new single done by this afternoon…”
Having known Jaskier half his life, and having lived with him for years, Geralt had seen Jaskier in all states of dress, and undress. The expanse of wet, hairy skin shouldn’t even have registered. So why did his cheeks feel warm? And when exactly had Jaskier become so muscular? How long had that been hiding underneath his flouncy, billowy blouses and oversized t-shirts?
“Geralt?”
Ciri elbowed him in the side, and Geralt shook his head, realising that he’d been staring and that Jaskier was waiting for an answer.
“Yes. Sure. No problem,” he replied gruffly, yanking his other boot on and reaching for the door. “See you later.”
“Have fun!”
Geralt brooded on the drive to the stables. He didn’t even notice when Ciri changed the radio station, something that was against the rules in the truck, (not that that stopped either her or Jaskier from doing it often, much to Geralt’s frustration). He also didn’t shove his hand into the frame as she snapped selfies on her phone, nor clock her assessing gaze on him as he drove.
Once they were out on the trail, Ciri rode up alongside him.
“Something on your mind, Dad? Or someone?” she asked with a smirk.
“What? No. Why?”
“You just seem distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
“Wasn’t that nice of Uncle Jaskier to make you a cake yesterday?”
Geralt grunted. “What, nice of him to make a mess of the kitchen?”
Ciri rolled her eyes. “He was concerned about you, he said you’d had a bad week. He did clean up, and he said he would order a new spice rack.”
“I’m not even going to ask what happened.”
Ciri shrugged. “I don’t know, the kitchen already looked like a bomb went off when I got home from school. Anyways, I thought it was sweet. He really cares about you, Dad.”
“Sure.”
“And I think you really care about himtoo.”
Geralt gave her a quizzical look. “Of course. He’s one of my best friends. Is there something you want to talk about, Cirilla?”
Ciri opened her eyes wide and held out her hands. “Nope! Just making conversation. Race ya to the trees!” She spurred on her horse without waiting for an answer, and Geralt begrudgingly followed.
What was that about? Was Ciri trying to remind him of their friendship in case something happened with Jaskier’s crush? They had both dated people here and there since living together, it wasn’t a big deal. Ciri had known about the relationships and nothing had functionally changed at home, so she shouldn’t have reason to be concerned.
The rest of the afternoon passed with an odd sort of tension, Ciri sliding him sidelong glances that he couldn’t parse. When he tried to question her about it, she avoided answering, redirecting the conversation with a deftness that belied her age.
By the end of their ride, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what she meant and he got back into his truck feeling more frustrated and less relaxed than he usually did after a ride.
-
Jaskier sat at his desk, tapping his pen against the top with a ferocity that would have had Geralt storming in and removing it from his grip, had he been home. He was still out riding with Ciri, however, so Jaskier’s nervous habits had full reign. He needed to get this demo finished, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate. Every time he started mixing or re-listening, he would hear Ciri in his head telling him that everyone knew he was in love with Geralt, or that she thought that he might feel the same. He groaned and dropped his forehead onto the keyboard, creating a cacophony of sounds on the computer. He tapped it again for good measure.
He had been in love with his best friend for years, so this was utterly distracting, and, he was certain, utterly hopeless. He had flirted with the man often enough in the early days of their friendship, and that had got him exactly nowhere. He didn’t think Geralt had even noticed. He also never seemed to take note of Jaskier’s outfits, care about seeing his bare skin, or about any dates or one-night-stands he had. Jaskier had even come onto him a few times over more recent years, when in a mood and especially drunk, and Geralt had brushed him off every time. Sometimes tucking him into bed as if he were another child, leaving him water and pills on the bedside table for the inevitable hangover the next day. It was an absolutely hopeless case, but Jaskier’s heart stubbornly wouldn’t get the message, and so now, even though he knew, he knew, that Ciri was wrong, he couldn’t get her words out of his head.
“Auuuugh!”
He pushed away from his desk and shoved his hands through his hair, tugging at it before dropping them back down. He grabbed his phone from beside the keyboard and tapped at the screen a couple times before setting it down, letting it ring on speaker.
“Hey asshole, what’s up?” a voice spoke through the phone.
“Val, you cocksucker, I’d say it’s lovely to hear your voice, but we would both know it’s a lie.”
“I’d ask if you’ve finished the demo yet, but we both know you wouldn’t be calling if you had.”
Jaskier sighed in answer.
“The usual, then?” Valdo asked over the line.
“Hit me.”
“Julian, you limp-wristed, puffed-up peacock of a man. You couldn’t find your tiny dick if you had a map, and you couldn’t carry a tune if you had two hands and a bucket. Your ideas are tired, your lyrics are cliché, and there is no way inhell you’ll have the demo done this week, let alone today, because you only excel at disappointing expectations, and lowering the collective intelligence of any room you walk into.”
“Thanks, fucker.”
“Anytime. Let me know when you’re done, let’s grab a drink.”
“Deal.”
Jaskier tapped the phone to end the call, pulled up to the desk, and set to work. Plenty of time to obsess over his personal problems later. Having Valdo drag him never ceased to light a fire under his ass, and he attacked his task with a renewed vengeance.
-
Geralt was still stuck in his head while he made a late lunch for himself and Ciri. He couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like if Eskel and Jaskier dated. Would it be weird? Would Jaskier still want to do movie-and-a-pizza Friday nights? Would he invite Eskel to join them? Or would they want to go out to a club? Jaskier loved to go out drinking and dancing. If not for the routine with Geralt and Ciri, he would surely be out clubbing most Friday evenings. Geralt didn’t really savour the thought of watching them canoodle during a movie, but he also thought that movie night would feel quiet and a bit empty without Jaskier. Would Jaskier want to move out? Geralt shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. So far it was just a crush, nothing to get himself worked up over. But he couldn’t get the idea out of his head.
The pasta was a bit overdone, and the sauce a bit runny. Ciri gave him an assessing look after her first bite, but didn’t mention it.
-
Jaskier and Valdo cheers’d their cocktails to the demo being submitted, then Jaskier tossed his entire drink back as if it were an oversized shot. Valdo watched with one dark brow raised.
“So, what had you so wound up that you needed me to trash-talk you out of it today?” he asked, smirking and poking at the ice in his glass with the tiny drink umbrella.
“Mmm?” Jaskier tried to give his best innocent look. It was pointless, as Valdo saw straight through him, as always. “I was just having a bad ADD day, just needed that extra push, you know?”
“Uh huh. And you didn’t even taste your overpriced drink because you were just dying of thirst. I mean, you can practice your bullshit on me if you want, but you know I’ll get the truth out of you eventually. And I’d rather get it out now than watch you throw away your money trying to drown whatever-it-is, and then have it come out all sloppy anyways later on.”
Jaskier’s shoulders sagged and he let out a dramatic sigh. “I hate you.”
“Yes yes, feeling’s mutual, love. So?”
“It’s…stupid.”
“Well, I’d surmised that already. It is you, after all.”
Jaskier glared at him. If only he hadn’t got sloppy and had that one night with his bandmate. If only Valdo didn’t have the uncanny ability to read his mind. If only… well.
“It’s Geralt.”
Valdo looked unimpressed. “Oh? He finally have enough and throw your disastrous ass out?”
Jaskier scowled. “No.”
“So…?”
“I’m in love with him.”
“Yes…and?”
“And…and apparently everyone knows!” Jaskier threw his arms out to the sides for emphasis.
“And?”
“I really do hate you.”
“We’ve covered that.”
Jaskier ordered another drink, then scrubbed his hands over his face. “Ciri knows, and she says the rest of her family knows, and she seems to think that… that Geralt might feel the same way.”
“And this is a bad thing, how?”
“Because she’s wrong!”
“I mean, I thought the man had better taste than that, but I don’t know him very well, so who am I to say, really? Besides, if all I have to go on that she’s wrong is yourword, then that’s pretty poor evidence.”
“Trust me. She’s wrong. I have tried - many times. Too many times. I was barking up the wrong tree. Probably in the wrong forest.” Jaskier gratefully accepted his new drink from the bartender.
Valdo smirked into his drink before replying. “And yet you can’t stop thinking about it.”
Jaskier dropped his head onto his arms on the bar and groaned. “My head knows it’s hopeless but my heart won’t listen.”
“Maybe you just need a good fuck. How long’s it been?”
Jaskier jerked his head up. “Oh no. I’m not jumping on that crazy again. Not if you paid me.”
Valdo wrinkled his nose. “I wasn’t offering. The feeling’s mutual. But not everyone has met you yet, surely. I’m certain we can find some poor sap–”
“Not tonight, Val.”
Valdo eyed him critically, brows furrowed in what might have been genuine concern. “That bad, huh?”
Jaskier gave him a miserable look and nodded, then waved at the bartender for another drink. The last one seemed to have disappeared without his notice.
-
Geralt watched Ciri walk up the path to Yennefer’s house until she was safely inside, then pulled out his phone. He’d felt it vibrate in his pocket several times as he was driving. Two missed calls from Jaskier, and as many voicemails. He frowned as he tapped to listen to them. Jaskier usually texted: if he called, and had left messages, something was usually wrong.
“LOVE him, Val,” Jaskier’s voice slurred on the first message. Geralt’s stomach twisted. So the crush was something more serious than he’d first assumed. “Stupid… handsome face, and… bigmuscles. Stupid, acting all caring and being gentle and, and, putting up with me, and… don’t deserve him even if he did feel the same way.” It did sound like Eskel, Geralt thought, his brow furrowed. There was a loud noise of something moving across the phone’s receiver, then the voicemail ended. Geralt clicked to listen to the next one.
“Are you sure?” Valdo was saying at the beginning of the message. “Because it may hit you wrong when you’re in such a… state.” Geralt thought he heard a hum of agreement from Jaskier in response, but it was hard to tell. A sigh. “Ok. Listen up, you lazy, hairy otter.” A snort. “You are a walking, talking, human disaster. You have less adulting skills than your adopted niece, you have the emotional maturity of a puppy, and even less sense. You–” Geralt growled and hung up, unable to listen to Valdo ripping his friend apart any longer. How dare he? Geralt had never liked the other man, from the first time they’d met. He was cocky, and sarcastic, and Geralt had never trusted him. He knew Jaskier and Valdo had some weird dynamic where they traded barbs, but Geralt had never been able to understand it, and it rubbed him the wrong way. He had at least been glad that Jaskier had stopped sleeping with him. He was sure that would have been toxic in the long run.
But Jaskier seemed to be moping over his crush, seemed to think he had no chance, and he had sounded completely wasted. What if he did something stupid? The thought of Jaskier sleeping with that asshole again made Geralt’s blood boil. He tapped the screen to call Jaskier back.
“H’lo? G’ralt?”
“Where are you?” Geralt ground out.
“‘M at the bar, with Valdo.”
“Whichbar.”
“Bloody Alp.”
“Stay there, I’m coming to get you.” He hung up the phone and turned the key in the ignition.
-
“Wha–? No, Geralt–” Jaskier stared at his phone screen. The call had already ended. He frowned at it. “Hung up on me! Bastard. What crawled up his sculpted ass ‘n died.”
Valdo snorted. “Did he come home to some disaster of yours?”
“No!” Jaskier retorted indignantly, before deflating. “That was yesterday.”
Valdo snickered.
Geralt arrived ten minutes later, shoving through the doors. His eyes quickly scanned the crowd until he spotted them, then he made a beeline for them, his face a stormcloud. Valdo straightened when he saw him.
“Gods, what did you do, Jaskier?”
“Whu? Nothing! I…” he trailed off as he caught sight of Geralt stalking over. “I don’t know?” Jaskier murmured, feeling some of his drunken haze burn off with the look on Geralt’s face.
“What are you doing here? With him?” Geralt demanded. Jaskier stared up at him from his barstool, blinking owlishly. “He treats you like shit. If you needed to get drunk, you couldn’t have waited until I was home?! You couldn’t talk to me about Eskel?”
“Eskel??” Jaskier looked dumbfounded.
“Orwhoever your crush is,” Geralt responded. Jaskier blinked at him with a blank face, and silence hung between them, until Jaskier finally broke it, his words bursting forth as he rose from the stool.
“You, you great dolt. I can’t very well talk to you about you, can I, Geralt?”
It was Geralt’s turn to blink in baffled silence. Jaskier’s face did something complicated as he realised what he had just said.
“Well!” Valdo slapped his legs as he rose from his own stool. “It’s getting late, I’ve got to be going. Let me know when you hear from the studio, hmm, Julek?” He gave Jaskier’s shoulder a squeeze as he passed, giving Geralt a wide berth before quickly exiting the bar, followed out by Geralt’s murderous glare.
Geralt turned back to Jaskier. “What do you mean, me?” he asked quietly.
“Hmm?” Jaskier hedged, unsure of how to get himself out of this.
“What do you mean me, you can’t talk to me about me?” He clenched and unclenched his fist at his side. Jaskier couldn’t mean what it sounded like. Sure, Jaskier had seemed to be flirting with him on occasion, but Jaskier hit on everyone. He was just kidding, or it was out of pity, or something. He couldn’t possibly mean it. Geralt was… Geralt. Nothing like Instagram-ready Valdo, or curvy and gorgeous Virginia, not smooth-tongued, or fashionable. Jaskier was always teasing him for his lack of fashion or care for his appearance; that he needed to get out more, that he could learn to use his words. Geralt was well aware of all that he lacked, and well aware that he could never measure up to anyone Jaskier ever set his sights on. Which was fine. Geralt wasn’t trying to compare. They were roommates, and best friends, and… honestly, Geralt had never even considered anything more. Jaskier was pretty and vivacious and popular in crowds and… everything Geralt wasn’t, really.
Maybe he’d never considered anything more because he’d really never dreamed it could be an option. He didn’t think Jaskier would ever want anything more than friendship from him, and that had been perfectly fine with Geralt. He had been content to be roommates and friends. He couldn’t imagine Jaskier not being intrinsically part of his life, but he hadn’t really examined that thought closely.
“Is there something bothering you at home?” Geralt ventured. “Is this about the cake, somehow–”
“What?No, Geralt. Honestly, are you really so thick, or is it just an act you put on so as not to address things?”
“What?”
“You, Geralt, my crush is you. Except it isn’t a crush, really, I’m stupidly in love with you.” Jaskier chewed viciously at his lip. Geralt’s gaze was drawn down to it, and he had the strong compulsion to pull it free with his thumb.
Geralt furrowed his brow. “That isn’t funny, Jask.”
“No, I fully agree! I don’t find it funny myself.”
“You’re serious.”
Jaskier rolled his eyes, huffed, and spun on his heel, plopping back onto his stool facing the bar. “Just leave me to my misery. I’ll see you at home once I’ve drunk enough to obliterate my memories.”
“What? You can’t say things like that, Jaskier, and then…” Geralt trailed off as he noticed that the attention on them from around the bar was growing, and he shifted uncomfortably. “Listen, will you come home, and we can continue this there?” Jaskier raised his hand to call over the bartender, and Geralt yanked it down. “Please, Jaskier,” he ground out through his teeth.
Jaskier sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine.” He jerked himself to standing, then swayed, and Geralt caught his elbow to steady him. Jaskier jumped at the touch, and Geralt quickly withdrew his hand. “‘m fine,” Jaskier mumbled.
Geralt sighed, then led the way out of the bar and to the truck. They climbed in and drove home in charged silence. As they walked up the path to the front door, Jaskier spoke.
“And Ciri is–”
“At Yennefer’s”
“Right.”
They went inside, kicking their shoes off at the door.
“So,” Geralt started as they walked further into the house.
“Geralt, really, it’s fine,” Jaskier interrupted, feeling much more sober than he’d like for this conversation. “I know you don’t feel the same way and it isn’t going to happen. I never meant to say anything, we can just forget what I said, yeah?”
“I don’t want to forget, you said–”
“Yes, I know what I said, and apparently everyone knows how I feel, everyone’s having a good laugh I’m sure–”
“Jaskier.”
“Geralt.”
“You love me? Like–”
“Yes, Geralt. I love you. Like, I look forward to seeing you every day, and your stupid grunts, and your dumb jokes, and your frankly outrageously hot body which I hnnng, I am both too soberandnot sober enough for this conversation.”
“You love me,” Geralt murmured under his breath, eyes catching on Jaskier’s bottom lip, reddened from biting.
“Yes,” Jaskier rasped.
“Can I kiss you?” Geralt whispered.
“What?”
Geralt glanced up to meet Jaskier’s eyes, and caught his bewildered stare. Jaskier nodded dumbly. Geralt leaned in and pressed their lips together softly, and Jaskier gasped against his mouth. Geralt hummed, his hand finding Jaskier’s waist and tugging him closer, his tongue swiping Jaskier’s bottom lip, tasting the fruity alcohol he’d been drinking. Jaskier seemed to snap out of his daze, letting out a light groan and leaning into Geralt, his fingers reaching up to twist into Geralt’s hair. The kiss deepened and their tongues slid together. Geralt was lost in the sensations, the solidness of Jaskier’s body under his hand, the softness of his lips, the taste of fruit and alcohol and something all Jaskier on his tongue. He was startled back to reality when Jaskier pulled back, setting his hands on Geralt’s chest to maintain some distance. Geralt looked at him, brow furrowed.
“Wait,” Jaskier said. Geralt waited. “What is this?”
“Uh…a kiss?” Geralt ventured. Jaskier made a noise of disgust, pushing him back slightly.
“What are we doing, Geralt? I’m under the impression that you don’t usually snog your roommates.”
“I don’t know.”
Jaskier’s face twisted and he turned to walk away.
“Wait!” Geralt reached out to catch Jaskier’s shirt. “I’ll tell you what I do know?”
Jaskier turned back, raising a brow and waiting for him to continue.
“I know I can’t stand the thought of you sleeping with Valdo again–”
Jaskier spluttered “I’m not–”
Geralt continued, ignoring him. “–or even drinking with him. The way he talks to you makes my skin itch. The thought of you with Eskel was easier, but only comparatively. I didn’t like the thought of having to see you together. I liked the thought of losing you even less.”
“Why would you lose me?” Jaskier asked softly.
“If you started dating someone… what would happen to movie nights? And you’d probably eventually want your own space. I don’t want you to move out. I don’t want to stop coming home to you.”
“It would be tidier,” Jaskier suggested, a corner of his lips tilted up.
“I don’t want it tidier. I don’t–I don’t want a life without you in it.”
“Well, Geralt,” Jaskier drawled, “as luscious as your lips are, you don’t need to kiss me to keep me in your life.”
“But what if I want to?” Geralt murmured, tugging Jaskier lightly back towards him.
“What about tomorrow?” Jaskier asked.
“I have a feeling your lips will be just as tempting tomorrow.”
“But you never…”
Geralt’s hands settled back onto Jaskier’s hips, as he cocked his head slightly.
“I never considered it before; didn’t think it was a possibility.”
“But I… Geralt!”
“Mmm.” Geralt was back to staring at Jaskier’s lips.
“I think I was quite obvious, on multiple occasions–”
“Didn’t think you were serious.”
Jaskier spluttered, and Geralt hummed again, leaning in to stop him with his lips.
“Mmph.”
Jaskier thought about protesting but quickly decided it could wait until later. He found he was no longer capable of resisting the pull of what he’d yearned for for years. He let himself melt into Geralt’s strong arms, under his warm mouth. Followed him with a stumble as Geralt started slowly backing down the hallway towards their rooms.
Geralt made to open Jaskier’s door but Jaskier pushed him past it, remembering the state he’d left his room in when he headed out to meet Valdo. They stopped inside Geralt’s bedroom, Geralt’s hands under the hem of Jaskier’s shirt, stroking his back, and Jaskier’s hands on Geralt’s belt buckle. Jaskier’s fingers had a faint tremble, and Geralt’s breath was becoming harsher.
“Geralt, are–”
“Listen, what—”
They both stopped and shared a shaky smile.
“What if we get comfortable and just…snuggle?” Geralt asked hesitantly.
Jaskier grinned. “That sounds wonderful.”
They shucked off their socks, Jaskier pulled off his overly-tight jeans and Geralt removed his belt, then they crawled under the covers, carefully twining together again. Jaskier shortly snuggled in closer, tucking his head under Geralt’s chin, and Geralt reached up to comb through his hair.
“Is this real?” Jaskier whispered.
“Well, your toes against my thigh are freezing, so I’m going to go with yes,” Geralt answered with a smirk. Jaskier snorted, then nuzzled at Geralt’s throat.
“Will you still be here tomorrow morning?” Jaskier whispered.
“Itis my bed.”
“Ge-ralt!”
“Hmm.” Geralt shifted and curled his body around Jaskier. “I promise.”
“OK,” Jaskier answered sleepily, stifling a yawn.
“If you snore, though, I’m smothering you with a pillow.”
“I do not–”
“You do, especially when you’ve been drinking.”
Jaskier huffed indignantly but was too tired to come up with a retort.
Jaskier’s breathing soon evened out, and then he was softly snuffling into Geralt’s skin. Geralt smiled. It felt right, having Jaskier in his arms, more so than anything had in a long time. He may not have had the words, but he knew that what he wanted was right here.
–
This came from prompt writing with @mamamichine. Prompts were: constant motion; the cleaner; spice rack; true friendship; the help. This won’t be a fanfic, I said! Then quickly realised, “Ok but actually it is totally Jask trying to bake.” Then Ciri just showed up, because I’m not in charge here - thanks Ciri, love having you here! I thought this was a 1-1,500 word silly fic of them baking, but here we are. Also Valdo showed up. I dunno throws up hands. Thanks to @newnamesamecharlotte,@lohrendrell,@major-trouble&@bastardofmothman for your eyes/beta’ing/encouragement
Currently obsessed with the Simon Snow trilogy and couldn’t help but doodle a BUNCH of Simons and Bazes. This batch is based on Carry On, the first book in the series :)
Currently obsessed with the Simon Snow trilogy and couldn’t help but doodle a BUNCH of Simons and Bazes. This batch is based on Carry On, the first book in the series :)
ALT
